


A Great Prince in Prison Lies

by dancinbutterfly



Series: The Ecstasy [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Gender politics, Hockey Talk, Kissing, Kneeling, M/M, Omegaism, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that they know he's an omega, Metallurg Magnitogorsk takes control of Zhenya's life and shuttles him away from his family and out of sight to a country dacha to endure forced heats. Lucky for Zhenya, they brought him someone to help. Hint: It's Dima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Great Prince in Prison Lies

**Author's Note:**

> OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LIKE IT! THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! YOU ARE WHY THERE IS MORE! 100%! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS TOO!
> 
> All titles are from John Donne's beautiful poem "The Ecstasy".
> 
> Zhenya is still 17. Dima is still in his 30s. It's still legal in Russia. But you may consider it under age so I'm still gonna let you know :D
> 
> Some Russian stuff in the end notes

Zhenya is shuttled straight from the stadium when the playoffs end for Magnitogorsk. They dragged him to a doctor who shot him full of birth control and heat endusers before driving him into the countryside to a safehouse. Said safehouse is in reality a renovated dacha that has been expanded on to twice its original size making it the biggest house Zhenya's ever spent any substantial time in. 

"You'll need it." The lawyer with the sharp chin says. "You're not leaving the property without express permission of the GMs which you must request twenty-four hours in advance." He hands over a cell phone. "Limit your call time so you don't run out of minutes. You won't be going into the city to refill your SMS chip."

"What's wrong with my own phone?"

The lawyer gave him a look clearly asking _what are you, fucking stupid?_ He rolls his eyes when Zhenya doesn't move or change his expression. He wants an answer. "Save it for calls to family. Do not text your teammates. A mass email has been sent from your team account that you're training in Finland."

Zhenya feels like he's been kicked in the chest. "You hacked my email account?"

"It's a team email account, Malkin. You are one of the users. You agreed to the terms and conditions when you created an account. We are within our rights to use it as we see fit due to the agreement you made upon..." He trails off and wrinkles his face like a raisin. "Disclosure of your dynamic."

This must be what dying feels like, Zhenya thought as all the air was sucked out his lungs. He gasps for a moment before choking out, "I can't do this."

"You'd be amazed what people can do when pushed. You're an exceptional athlete for an omega. You should be grateful. The league has been very generous in the concession it made for you. Show that gratitude by obeying the terms laid out for you on the guidebook inside. You'll find it on the kitchen table."

"Concession?"

"Yes," the lawyer murmured glancing down at his watch then up at the road where a black four door with tinted windows was pulling up to the driveway. "I argued against it but your head coach was adamant that there wasn't a security risk. King managed to get the owners to agree with him and I was overruled." The man looks disgusted just saying the name but Zhenya sighs in relief. 

He likes David. The man's Canadian and Zhenya's English consists of "fuck", "yes", "no" and "I don't speak English” so they don't exactly talk much. Still, his eyes and face have always seemed kinder than Sykora’s.He never looked at Zhenya the way Skyora did after that first night with Dima, when Sykora discovered that Zhenya was a "lying omega cunt" as he liked to mutter under his breath whenever he walked by. David knew about his second gender but it never seemed to make a difference to him. The man put him in plays that Sykora stopped considering him for and that alone made Zhenya care for the man, made him ache for the NHL if David King was an example.

The lawyer was still talking. "Do your part by taking the heat activators on schedule over the next few weeks." He flips through the paper in his hands, glaring down at them. "I hope you understand that if you were anyone else, anyone but the famous Evgeni Malkin, the league would never allow for this."

"Allow for..?" He tries to finish the question when the scent hits him in the face. It shouldn't be possible for him to smell a specific alpha from 30 feet away but he swears can. He feels him all the way to his bones and if the fucking lawyer weren't here, he'd go to his knees right now like a traditional omega and wait for Dima to come to him and guide him, take up the role of his alpha that he seemed to fill so perfectly.

The back door opens and Zhenya sees familiar narrow shoulders covered in a blue t-shirt. Oh god. He's really here. 

Even with the lawyer here, watching, it's hard to resist crossing to him or kneeling before him because this is Dima, here in person after months of constant phone calls, texts, emails and one furtive touch of fingers at a St Petersburg game before the coaches had dragged him away. They shouldn’t have done even that. It was stupid and risky and they signed NDA’s.

Only he couldn't help himself because Zhenya could be himself, his whole self, when he talked to Dima. Dima was bright and funny and had a bit of a temper and never made Zhenya feel young or stupid. That had been too precious to let go of. He realizes now that his coaches had known the whole time, had spied on them like the fucking KGB.

Zhenya will be angry at the organization for doing this later. Now he's been on the edge of heat for the last twenty-four hours and seeing Dima again is pushing him over the edge. He knows that he's so close to being able to give in, give over to biology and let Dima take care of him that suddenly all the little symptoms he's been ignoring are almost too much to take. 

"Okay," he chokes out, winding himself tight around this man who makes him feel like his feet are firmly on the ground while also flying. He pushes his face into the smell of alpha, _his_ alpha. "Whatever. Just get in your car and go."

The lawyer seems to conjure a pad of paper from the ether. "I'll need to to sign here, here and here, then initial here and here, and sign here." 

Zhenya scribbles like a madman and shoves it back at the man so hard he stumbles. He gives Zhenya an ugly smirk. He's grinning lewdly now. He's an alpha himself, Zhenya realizes, and he can smell the oncoming heat enough that he's visibly hard through his suit trousers. "There's a copy you," he says handing Dima a briefs that looks like a text book. "Once you filled that out, I'll be on my way so you two can have your fun. Rest assured, you're...on the mind...of the leagues' alpha staff."

"Fuck you," Zhenya spits.

The man rolls his eyes. "Please. You'd have to beg."

Dima growls, low and deep and loud then snaps his teeth together. "You're done here," he says, his words coming out in the same timbre as the growl. "Go or I'll kill you, then call the police and plead a case of Heat-Fever Mate Protection. No one would convict me for fighting a fellow alpha to the death over a fertile omega I already had a claim on. They'd let me finish out Zhenya's heat with him before they even took me in for questioning." Dima pops his knuckles. 

That whole display is over the top for Dima. He'd never be like this in a normal situation - too much, too macho, too violent but something felt too fragile in Zhenya to laugh at the ridiculousness of it so he sank to his knees instead. It seemed like the safest thing to do. The right thing to do. He didn't speak so much as mouth the words "my alpha" behind the man's back. That laser gaze beams at him like a clear sky as Dima looks at him with warm ocean eyes before freezing back to ice chips in the face of an enemy. 

"Sign your parts and I'll be out of your way so you can screw your puckslut." The lawyer chuckles at his turn of phrase then heaves a disappointed sigh. "It’s such a shame when omegas put themselves in positions like this, isn't it?  It wasn't like this fifteen years ago. He'd have to be at home with you back then, safe with none of this ugliness." He took a deep inhale then licks his lips. "You wouldn't have to schedule his heats then, brother. You could have him on his knees like that all the time, you know. It's where he belongs so you can take him at your leisure like the omega whore he is. We're both old enough to remember that even if kids like Malkin," he jerks his head at Zhenya, as if he's not right the fuck here, thanks, "Have forgotten."

Dima signs the papers and shoves them against the lawyer's chest. He grabs the man's sharp lapel in the process and doesn't tug so much as anchor with the movement. "Someone else had best come get us when the off-season ends," Dima growls, deep and guttural, almost anima. "If we see you again, we'll make you regret it. My firm has more lawyers on retainer than every team on the KHL combined and you just insulted me, belittled an entire gender, and cast aspersions onto one of this country's greatest athletes. To top that off, I have the right to beat you black and blue for even looking at an omega who's consented to be mine for their upcoming heat," He snarls, feral and furious. That shouldn't make Zhenya wetter but goddamnit it does. "It also means that you've got a witness to your litigation worthy bigoted language. Most importantly, you've just called someone whose job calls for consistently giving and taking violent body blows a whore, to his face; a person with whom you've signed an NDA and liability releases as well." He takes a step back and looks the lawyers scrawny frame up then down apraisingly. "You're a lawyer so I'd think you can infer what all that can mean for your future and the future of the bones in your face if I were you." He holds out his hands, palm up in the universal symbol for _I'm unarmed_.  

The lawyer glances over his shoulder, giving a glimpse of his narrowed eyes. "You wouldn't let him."

"Don't talk about him like he's not right over there, like he's my attack dog. Whatever Zhenya will do is his decision," Dima says simply. "Hey, Zhenya," he calls. "If given half the chance, would you hit this twat in the face for calling you a whore?"

Zhenya chokes on a laugh and blinks back tears. He might be half in love with this man. He really might be. Fucking hell. "Maybe. I'm not much of a fighter but I could make an exception."

"See?" Dima beams, proud and, if Zhenyas not mistaken, more than a little turned on. "That's a young man who knows his own mind and is willing to make snap decisions under pressure. That's very fucking attractive, much more attractive than whatever mindless doll your Andre Chikatilo mind is dreaming of. Now," He lets go of the contracts and brushes off the lawyer's shoulders of imaginary dust. The lawyer flinches at the touch. "Take your paperwork and go away." 

Without another word to the lawyer, Dima turns and strides up the length of the driveway to Zhenya. Dima clasps him by the back of the head and runs his fingers through his hair. It feels so good, familiar, if made distant by time. He sags forward pressing his face into the fabric of Dima's dress shirt. He nuzzles his cheek and nose into the cotton covering Dima's stomach and Zhenya can smell him: safe and kind and sex and want and need and fucking and laughing and love and alpha. 

"My alpha," Zhenya whispers.

"My omega," Dima returns, the growl still in his voice but it's turned gentle. Now it's something more like a purr. "Zhenya, you are so beautiful down there." He bends so that he can press a kiss to the top of his hairline. "I can't believe you went down for me with that asshole here. I'm so proud of you." 

Zhenya shrugs. It was nothing. It just felt right. The sudden clench of fingers in his hair tells him that Dima won't allow him to dismiss the value the gesture off.

"It was brave considering the things he was saying about you, about omegas in general." 

Zhenya answers by pulling Dima's shirt tails from his slacks so he can get his hands on skin. His back is smooth and strong and feels so cool under his hot hands. He rubs his cheek against Dima's hip inhales deeply, drunk on his smell - in a pre-heat daze but also just...missing this. He'd never been with anyone before Dima, let alone twice. Familiarity with someone else's body is new and exciting but there's a comfort here too, like coming home after a long stretch of road games. He manages to use one hand to get the two buttons undone which is enough for him to have his mouth against skin. It tastes better than he remembers. "Dima," he sighs, sagging so his forehead presses heavy against his abdomen while he sucks a dark hickie into the skin below his navel. 

"God, you're always so brave. It's one of my favorite things about you. You make me want to be brave too."

"I didn't do anything."

"You did. You did a big thing actually so don't be a child and minimize it. Also he's gone now so you can get up if you want."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we can stay here for awhile. Like I said it's a nice view."

"Mmm," Zhenya agrees, humming into the exposed skin he's marked purple already. It's not going to fade. That's acceptable. 

Besides, if last time was any indication, he wants to shower and get food before this heat hits him, which it will. They can both smell it, feel it crackling in the air between them like static lightning. "My knees hurt."

"It's way too early for that," Dima teases. Zhenya smacks his arm as he drags him into the dacha. The door isn't even closed behind them before their places are reversed and Dima is the one on his knees, Zhenya pressed against a wall with his cock down Dima's throat. He wants to do or say something, his name maybe, please or more or curse but he can't manage any of it. 

He's never been blown before. He's never done anything he hasn't done with Dima and he didn't know people even did this to omegas. The only oral he'd ever heard of involved zero cocksucking on the alpha's part. Omega's don't get blown. That act isn't a taboo or anything it just never happens when the option of eating an omega out exists instead. At least what thats what movies, TV, and the alphas he plays with have taught him.

Turns out, what he thought he knew about alpha oral practices are wrong. Some alphas suck cock like it's their mission from Christ himself to impart to the world and bless them for it. Zhenya's fingernails could possibly be digging little crescents in the plaster - he's not sure. He can't feel his fingers, or his toes, or anything but Dima's soft lips and hot wet mouth and strong tongue and oh, the vibrating because he was humming something, maybe the national anthem?

Yeah. It definitely is the national anthem. Zhenya didn't know it was possible to feel horny and patriotic at the same time but then again Dima brings the strange things out of him at the strangest times. Unsurprisingly, he did not make it to the last verse.

It was gross. Dribbling come-spit everywhere was gross yet even drenched as he was, Zhenya felt a hard involuntary clench of arousal in his internal muscles accompanied by new wetness at the sight, so it was also insanely hot. His brain made no sense even to him sometimes. The way Dima coughs when he pulls off shouldn’t make him want to kiss him, but it does. 

That's how they end up on the ancient wooden floors. They travel from the floor to the shower by Zhenya lifting Dima up and carrying him there which sets Dima off again, shoving him into the slippery tile as the water rains down on them and kissing him drunk with the giddiness that only seems to happen on reunions. He's seen his teammates with girlfriends, wives, husbands, and boyfriends get like this when they trip off a plane or a bus and into the arms of a waiting partner, particularly a new one, but he's never experienced it for himself before. It's a different kind of good than the burn of heat. 

It's like the bubbles in a soda rising under his skin without a need to explode. All those happy chemicals that exercising until he's ready to break let out are unleashed now when he goes carefully to his knees in the shower and lets Dima wash his hair for him without being asked. They make it out of the shower, into the large bed in the master bedroom before the bubble bursts.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, tracing Dima's clavicles with his fingertips. "They said I wasn't supposed to even talk to you."

"Yeah. That ever stopped us."

Zhenya nods. He's got a point there.

"It's the KHL, Zhenya, not the KGB. They don't have interrogation rooms and torture chambers."

He is not having this argument again. Not now when they are face to face with all this skin touching, all these facial expressions they can read. He pushes his knee hard against Dima's thigh. "Tell me."

Dima sighs and looks away. "David King called me last week. English is my second language, you know?"

"No."

"Oh, well, I thought that was how he knew that we could talk, just the two of us. No interpreter to act as your KHL-KGB and he told me the details you wouldn't about what the GMs are making you do, that he exhausted the avenues he could try to get you out of it, so he thought that it'd be better for you if I was here since you-" Dima blinks and turns his face into the pillow. It doesn't hide his face enough. Zhenya shouldn't be surprised that he's crying but somehow he is. 

"Metiya."

"This is so fucking wrong, what they're doing to you," he whispers. "Sects do this to their members; Stalin and the Nazis all did things like this - I think I actually read about an experiment like this that Mengele did to some omegas in Auschwitz when I was in university. This is wrong and I don't want to be a part of it."

Zhenya's entire body tightens. Dima is the one good thing about this whole mess. He has a chance to spend time with him in person. They can ride out the next three heats with laughter and sex that is so hot that should it burn their skin off. If Dima leaves now Zhenya will go insane in this isolated summer home all alone but he won't ask him to stay. They threw Dima at him like a chewtoy to the caged animal they saw him as. He wouldn't force that on this man who he cared about, who had cared about, cared for,  since the first moment they met.

Dima sags, a feat considering he's already lying down. "If I thought you'd leave with me, I'd take you and run."

Zhenya blinks. "What?"

"What do you mean what?"

"What do you mean you'd take me and run?"

"Probably to London, maybe New York or Tokyo." He lifts his face out of the pillowcase and rubs his eyes. His smile only looks a little forced. "I'd have to talk to my boss and see where the firm has personnel needs. It could just as easily be Cape Town or Mexico City. We've got branches everywhere."

"But you mean out of the country."

"Yes. Away from the assholes who think it's okay to make a healthy young man abuse his reproductive system so they can protect their delusional idea of masculinity." 

"Away from hockey."

Dima sighs heavily. His smile falls a little though it seems more genuine despite shrinking. "Which is why I started with 'if I thought you would', Zhenya. I know you won't. I couldn't do what the Super League is asking. I'd give it up, you know, just say fuck this and walk away, live my own life."

"And you think I should?" Zhenya asks, unable to keep the defeat out of his voice.

"No," Dima says, taking his face in both hands. "No, don't walk away. I go to your games when you're in my city; I watch them on TV; I hear your voice on the phone afterwards. You need it. You love it.  I just couldn't do it. It's what I mean when I said you were brave, earlier. I can't imagine sacrificing like that for love. That's what makes me want to be brave too. That, you, are why I'm here. I hate this and I hate them but you-" He drags a thumb over Zhenya's lower lip, then his cheekbone. "You mean so much to me it scares me sometimes."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Does it?"

Zhenya turns his head and kisses his palm. It doesn't. Instead it makes him feel worse because he feels exactly the same way which is a fucking mess. Best case scenario, he gets out and is in Pittsburgh after this next season, beginning his life in America and away from Dima. The worst he could manage would be a slip up that violates his contract and gives the KHL they'll keep his passport and humiliate him and pull strings at the visa offices in ways that will trap him here in Russia giving the national media free reign to ruin him so completely that no one will come near him again, not even this open, forgiving man he somehow managed to trip and fall into. 

Either way, feeling this much for Dima, knowing it’s returned, doesn't reassure him at all. He kisses his palm again and presses into until Dima is holding him tight, slender arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

"I don't know what the right thing to do is," Dima admits.

"Me either. This is right for now." Zhenya says. He makes himself believe it.

"Okay." Dima drapes his leg over his hip. "Okay."

They stay like that, looking and touching in the silence until warmth starts to rise in Zhenya and his hips rock forward involuntarily. He grinds up into the open V between Dima's legs until he's panting and sweating. He doesn't realize that he's whimpering until Dima silences the rhythmic sound with a sucking kiss.

"There's my beautiful slut." His smile is gentle. "Hello."

"Hello," Zhenya gasps. "Oh shit. It's starting."

"I know. I can practically taste how much you need me. I swear, Zhenya, I've never met anyone with a hole as greedy as yours." His hand dips under Zhenya's boxers to squeeze his ass. "It's perfect."

"No," he gasps but it's not a real protest. It's the last of his body's restraint fading away. 

"Yes. It's just empty, that's all. When it's not so hungry anymore, you'll understand what you are, won't you. You remember how you felt last time I filled you up. You know that you go mindless on my knot. It'll be the same now only better because I can come inside you, all hot and full. Give you want you need."

Zhenya wants to say yes. He wants to respond, have something equally eloquent and filthy to say in response but he's simply unable. His throat is dry, his tongue stone in his mouth. 

Dima kisses the corner of his mouth before stripping both of their underwear off. He's back in an instant, breathing hot into Zhenya's mouth and pulling his leg up over his hip. "I can fuck you like this, take my time while you can still think. I can fuck you into full heat Zhenya, watch you go from civilized man to mindless bitch or I can turn you over and just slam into you." He lazily prods at his hole as he speaks, testing the give and wetness. His fingers sink inside Zhenya with only a little resistance.

It makes him let a long open-throated moan because this is so much better than fucking his own hand in the shower in hotels or a toy in his home. Dima's fingers remember and find his prostate with little effort, his thick knuckles dragging over his inner walls - the combination not-quite scratching the fever itch and causing his body to produce even more slick. Dima sets a devastating pace until his three fingers make a wet sound thrusting in and out of Zhenya that is loud in the quiet room.

"What do you want?" he asks and Zhenya has to pry his eyes open. He can't think. He stares into Dima's ice blue eyes.

"What?"

"On your knees or like this. How do you want my cock, my lovely slut? Just tell me."

"This. Like this." He grabs fist full of Dima's salt and pepper hair. "Keep your face here. I want to see it."

"Your wish, my command."

"I want you to kiss me when you fuck me. Don't stop kissing me, Dima. Okay?"

Dima grins. "Okay." A small peck lands on Zhenya's slack mouth as if to prove his willingness.

Zhenya sinks into Dima's mouth for long minutes until he can find a good counter to the way Dima moves in him. Hiding in sensation Zhenya feels like if he can just kiss him deep enough and long enough, everything else will just fade away. There will only be him, his alpha and the storm of pleasure obliterating any thought but more and deeper and yes. He closes his eyes and sobs into their kiss as he feels Dima coming inside him, filling him up and locking him close hot and safe and so fucking good, and for a long time he manages to block out everything but the exchange of Dima's breath for his and the way their bodies buck against each other has Zhenya comes around his knot in a shuddering break with control that's just a tease of the rest of his heat. 

He might have hurt Dima, pulling his hair, but if he does, Dima didn't say anything or at least Zhenya didn't hear it. Face to face like this is not the best position to be knotted if not seated but Zhenya can manage. He's been in more uncomfortable positions longer. He built up his endurance with exercises with things like sustained wall-sits that he got up to half an hour for training. Comparatively, ten minutes laying a little haphazardly while knotted was nothing. Especially since said haphazard position pressed Dima's knot interestingly against his prostate.

Dima wasn't an athlete though so Zhenya nosed under his ear before asking if this was okay.

Dima chuckled and nodded. "I feel like that’s my line."

"You can't have all the lines."

"Some of lines, sometimes, would be nice."

"You have plenty to say. I listen to you talk all the time."

"Well when that's all there is," Dima trails off. 

"I like it better when I can see your face." Zhenya says, knowing what he means. "I like your face. It's a nice face."

It's a gorgeous face. The angles of it are so distinctive. His mouth is much narrower than Zhenya's own but they fit his long nose and sharp chin. The combination would make him look severe if not for his smile that cuts dimples in his cheek and forms crinkle lines around his blue eyes, eyes that are made even paler by the dark arched brows and lashes that are still jet black in contrast to the early grey in his hair. The whole package distracts Zhenya terribly.  It's probably good that all he has are a few shitty cell phone and Facebook pictures. If he had more access to Dima's face he doesn't know how he'd focus. Sometimes when he finds a text on his phone, he gets distracted like a schoolgirl with a crush anyway which is bad enough.

"I like your face too." He licks Zhenya's cheek. "Handsome and delicious." 

"God, you're so weird. You always do things like that." The long distance version is more along the lines of strange pictures and random texts of funny or bizarre thoughts. They're so strange, yet Dima always manages to tie everything together in a way that makes sense through his sense of humor. 

"You love it." Dima proclaims. He gives another lick, this one less playful and more focused along his jawline and punctuated with a sucking bite to the soft skin beneath Zhenya's ear. He hisses a little as Dima uses the distraction to pull out now that his knot has gone down. It's a familiar trick but it works almost every time.

"I do," he groans. He drops his head to Dima's shoulder. "I hate how much I do."

"Well something has to keep your life interesting. Otherwise it'd be totally uneventful."

Zhenya rolls his eyes. "Very funny."

"Well, my friends are always saying I should give up corporate finance and become a comedian. I can't leave the company though, I just love it too much there and so my talents will be forever wasted. It's a shame."

"It's a tragicomedy. Chekhov would be proud," Zhenya agrees because he'd liked the Chekhov plays in school, funny and sad all at once. Dima ruffles his hair in response then cuddles tight against him. Zhenya nuzzles at the spot where his neck and shoulder meet breathing in his alpha smell. He's tired now and he wants to get as much rest in as he can before his heat goes full blown and they're both tearing at each other mindless and overwhelmed. 

He can let go for now and let himself believe that he chose to come to this dacha with his vacation time to be with his...whatever Dima was - more than fuckbuddy but not exactly boyfriend. Falling asleep together tangled up in a king-sized bed in a refurbished Stalin-era dasha, Zhenya thinks that they could be like any other couple on any other holiday. Except Zhenya can't forget that they're not. They almost are though. Almost.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Great Prince In Prison Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373568) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton)




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